


Collapse

by SoHoldMeTight



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Depression, Dilaudid, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone’s pretty hurt, FBI, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Hotch is awesome, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt Derek, Hurt Gideon, Hurt Hotchner, Hurt Spencer, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, It’s Rough, May be continued, Middle School Man, PTSD, Past Torture, Physical hurt/comfort, Reid Whump, Reid addicted, Reid and Morgan are BFFs, Reid’s a bit like a middle school cliche at times, Reid’s kind of an anxious and depressed mess, Sad Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Whump, Spencer and Morgan are bffs, Torture, bau, but he’s also just s sweet child, elle is mentioned, everyone is awesome, garcia is awesome, morgan is awesome, not to mention he’s addicted to drugs so, possible fic, prentiss is awesome, spencer just needs a hug, the BAU is amazing, the middle school thing is mainly just because he’s insecure and sad and feels alone, the team is awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:11:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoHoldMeTight/pseuds/SoHoldMeTight
Summary: A collection of Reid’s struggles after the torture of Tobias.





	1. Chapter 1

The needle hovered above his skin like a noose over his head.

His breath colored the dark sky. In contrast his cheeks were a bright scarlet. This was the last time, Reid’s brain reminded him.

Not that he would forget.

He never forgot.

 _The incessant hiss as hot, red burning wood cracked against his skin. He couldn’t move his leg, but it was so hot_ it was so hot! _The smell of burnt flesh filled his nose. His lip was bleeding from biting back screams. Reid pulled at the restraints as the man raised his hand, the log staring down at him. It cracked and hissed above him as he shook his head, it sparked with hot reds and yellows._

_He whimpered._

_“Please,” he begged._

_His arms burnt with every pull; Raphael smirked. He cried out as his arms pulled further, the heat warming his skin as it rested near his ear. The scorched wood slammed against the sole of his foot._

_He screamed._

Reid shook himself, his breath stuttering as he began to sweat. No, he never forgot.

He looked at his shaking hands. His hands which had been restrained. He felt the trigger pull in his hand. Hankel fell to the ground.

No, no that wasn’t right. The sounds of his choked screams faded as Hankel’s body blew away with the crushed leaves beneath his back.

Reid frowned as he took in his true surroundings.

 _He_ was on the ground, surrounded by his cluttered apartment. His house was a mess. But that didn’t matter now. His back arched as the calming liquid flowed through his veins, his gun being the needle in his hand.

No, that didn’t matter right now. His house, Hankel, the team- all of the roaring pain and suffering turned to whispers until they’d been snuffed out like a flickering candle.

His dry mouth slipped over his white teeth. His eyes fluttered and his body stretched over his wooden floors. The needle rolled to the side. A small voice in his brain questioned when he had fallen on the floor, had the drug caused him to collapse? When had this started happening?

Questions were met with frightening statistics until the rushing images and whispered facts fell silent. He could still see the imagined noose above his head, reaching towards him until it flickered into nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

A blaring alarm woke Reid from his much needed sleep.

His lids parted to reveal crusted eyes with soft, purple bags pulling his face downwards. He groaned at the flashing red numbers. It was time for work. He pushed himself off the bed, running a scarred hand over his face.

Reid‘s hand dropped to his side, his eyes drawn to marred flesh of his arm.

Long streaks peeked out from under his shirt like purple veins. It was ridiculous; the first term which came to mind was varicose, a painful condition which enlarged the veins most commonly in a person’s lower extremities. No, his arm resembled the condition-

The thought was cut off by a sharp pain in his temple and a thick ache which stole the air from his chest.

Reid pressed a limp hand to his heart, the slow ache growing until his lungs seemed. He wiped a hand over his warm forehead, his thick blankets entangled around his shaking form. He shoved them away, scraping his hand over his face once more.

The track marks on his arm curled and uncurled with his movements.

*

“Hey Reid,” Morgan said with an easy smile.

Reid managed a nod as he walked into the office, his bag bouncing against his leg with each step. The team joked he was closer to his satchel than anyone in the BAU. Morgan said he was married to the thing; today it was his lifeline.

Morgan frowned as Reid brushed past him, his tired eyes focused on his unorganized desk. He called out to to him, but whatever was on the kid’s mind kept him busy. Reid slumped into his seat before scribbling furiously over a pad of paper.

He looked over at Prentiss before nodding in Reid’s direction.

Morgan frowned, “He say hi to you?”

Emily raised her eyebrows, “Reid, speaking to me? No. I don’t seem to be his favorite person right now.”

“I’m gonna go talk to him.”

The easy few steps to Reid’s desk had become less inviting each trip, but Morgan wasn’t about to let that stop him. His friend needed him and that was enough to encourage Morgan every time. No matter how many times Reid tried to push him away.

Deciding to throw subtlety out the window, Morgan opened with the obvious.

“Hey Reid, you okay?”

Reid ignored him, pushing his glasses up as he continued working. These days he always had paper work, always had something to focus his mind on- unless his eyes pulled shut to the world, something Reid would not allow today. He needed to work, he needed to be productive.

“What’s eating at you, pretty boy?”

He didn’t meet Derek’s eyes as he put the notepad aside. He focused on another file in front of him, running his finger down the page before flipping to the next.

“I am not a snack.”

Morgan smiled, relieved to hear any amount of their Reid again. But every version of Reid had the same defenses. It was those very deflections which reminded Morgan to speak carefully.

“So...,” Morgan awkwardly began, his fingers drumming on a BAU mug. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem kind of tired today.”

Reid closed the file, ignoring Morgan and the growing looks of concern in the office. He could feel JJ’s concerned, mothering eyes on him, wondering if he was operating at perfect condition. Hotch and Gideon couldn’t be far off. They thought he was slipping, they thought he couldn’t handle the pressure.

He continued analyzing the file. He heard Morgan sigh in the background of _December 18th, Bristol, Virginia; four victims, young female brunettes, Virginia High School, slit throats, quick deaths, unsub didn’t draw out killings, evidence of sexual violence, serial rapist murderer, bruises, all victims wearing a blindfold, signs of remorse, personal connections to victims, victims were drugged-_

The victims were drugged.

Morgan broke his concentration, his voice grating against Reid’s brain. He could feel another throbbing tension against his skull, his stomach clenching and unclenching.

“Look I get you don’t like talking to people about stuff but I’m worried, man. I-“

Reid met Morgan’s gaze, his dark eyes resting expectantly on his friend. Morgan paused, surprised by the sudden attention. Honestly, the kid looked he could use some attention.

The bags under his eyes were dug into his face which was pale and gauntly. His long brown hair was thin and messy, sticking up in certain patches on his head. And was he... sweating?

“Reid, it’s 70 degrees in here.”

His brow furrowed before he spoke. “Yeah thanks for the update. Did you want to discuss the weather further?”

“What- c’mon Reid, don’t be like that.”

Reid returned to his paperwork. Morgan ran a hand over his face. Why was this so difficult? Talking to Reid was one of the easiest parts of his day; now he could barely say hi to the guy without being accused of something.

Morgan gave him another look, eyes flickering up and down Reid’s pink face. “Its 70 degrees in here, and you’re sweating.”

“And you’re _not_ ,” Reid said with a tight smile. “Any other news?”

Derek pulled back, his eyes close together as he shook his head. “Man what is your problem? I know things have been tough on you lately so I’m trying to help.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not suggesting you’re-“

“Really Morgan?” He stood up. “So- so what are you suggesting? What that I- that I can’t do my job?”

Morgan raised his hands in defense, taken back by Reid’s sudden hostility. He’d demanded his attention and now he was upset with Reid for acknowledging him. Reid could feel his irritation growing. What more did they want from him?

Hurt flashes across his face, “I just asked why you were tired.”

Reid shoved a hand across his face. He hated that Morgan had come up to his desk, had cornered him in the one spot he was supposed to be left alone. He flipped to next case file, ignoring his friend.

“I’m not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Thank you for the reviews, comments make my day! Any requested scenes/interactions?


	3. Chapter 3

“Meeting in five,” Hotch announced, heading to the room the second he finished speaking.

Prentiss laughed, placing s case file on her desk. “He does know that meeting in five means five additional minutes, right?”

JJ shook her head as she walked down the floor, “All work and no play makes Hotch....” she shrugged, “Agent Hotchner. And speaking of work...”

She placed additional files on everyone’s desk, smiling sheepishly as she did so. Morgan and Prentiss groaned.

“C’mon JJ,” Morgan protested.

“Look I come bearing gifts,” she said defensively. “I put some chocolate at the end of every file’s paperwork.” She smiled, tapping Reid’s head as she passed him. “Extra motivation.”

Prentiss paused, looking up at JJ. “You put chocolate in the end of every folder?”

“Oh boy,” Morgan lowered his feet from his desk, grinning at the two girls. He eyed Reid with a knowing smile. “Here we go...”

“So you’re saying that I now have...” she counted the new files, “five pieces of chocolate to look forward to?”

She smiled, attempting to hide how pleased everyone knew she was with the arrangement. “Do you know what kind of chocolate it is?”

JJ grinned, knowing her plan had succeeded. “Three words. Milk chocolate, truffles.”

Her face broke into a smile, white teeth shining with glee. “I love you, JJ.”

“Of course you do,” she said with a smile. “But...” she faltered as Emily began opening a candy, the scarlet wrapper falling to the wayside.

Morgan laughed, “Hungry?”

“They’re movibating be ta’ continue,” she said through a mouth of chocolate.

Spencer said nothing, listening to the voices and shuffles around his desk. He appreciated JJ’s gesture but as of late his comments were always misconstrued. The awkwardness of conversation was slipping into his interactions with the team, a group he had previously associated with solidarity and comfort.

The oddity of such awkwardness was not lost upon him.

Reid knew the after effects of an abduction. He had worked enough cases to recognize the clear signs of apprehension. Social interaction left him agitated and exhausted, whereas before he was uncertain and tired.

 _There are more than 3 million yearly cases of post traumatic stress disorder in the U.S., primarily affecting men and women in their 40s to mid 50s._ He was an oddity. A family history of schizophrenia only further decreased his chance of a phlegmatic perspective.

_Practitioners have linked violent or life-threatening events with psychological and physiological dysfunction. Historically there also has been confusion and controversy over the nature of traumatic events and over whether to consider psychological reactions as malingering weakness, or genuine dysfunction_

More facts grabbed piece of his attention as Prentiss laughed at something in the background.

_According to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children nearly 800,000 children are reported missing each year._

Smiling school photos and big braces flashed across his mind’s eyes- the faces of the lost, the tortured, the dead. How many children had lost their lives to a stranger? To a friend?

_Trudy Leanne Appleby went missing from Moline, Illinois in 1996 from her hometown Moline, Illinois._

‘ _At least you’re alive,_ ’ his mind hissed between images.

It should be a good thing. It _was_ a good thing. He was glad to be with his team. But why did his mind seem to be a snake, snapping poisonous words every moment?

His stomach weighed him down like a shovel. It dug between his lungs and split his organs with slick, wet, blood. His nose was filled with stench of animal hearts. Dead fish hearts and livers ripped from gasping animal’s, their fins slapping the dry ground in agony.

_Slap._

_Their scales incomes against one another, blue gleaming amongst piles of wet scarlet._

_Slap, slap, slap._

_Was death always such pain?_

_Slap, slap, slap, **slap, slap-**_

_Was the end ever simple and clean, a welcoming transition from pain to peace? His mother holding him in his arms. He had felt like a fish then, drowning in memories of scraped knees and absent fathers turned to murder and fire._

_Slap, **slap, slap, slap-**_

_Their wide, white eyes stared at him as Tobias shouted. The eyes of dead animals and the dead couple blurred into endless photos of wide, white eyes and gray pushing into one another- fish in a barrel. Was this Reid’s fate as a well, was he a fish in a barrel?_

_An easy kill to be thrown in to the growing pile of bodies?_

_**Slap, slap, SLAP!** _

_A harsh cry was pried from his mouth like a lose tooth, painful and bloody._

_“You listen to me, boy!” Charles spit on the ground, wiping his hand of the sinner’s cheek. “If you don’t listen that tongue of yours I’ll have to pull it out.”_

_He expected the next hit._

_“Confess!”_


	4. Chapter 4

Reld flicked his hand past an irrelevant image.

He closed his eyes, searching for anything on missing persons.

_Over 2,000 children a day are abducted, 203,000 being kidnapped by family members. 80 percent of abductions are committed by strangers.  
_

_The first contact between the child and the abductor occurs within a quarter mile of the child's home._

_80 percent of child abductions are motivated by sexual intentions._

Penelope greeted the team as she descended from the stairs. Her berry colored mouth parted to display her white teeth as she waved. Today, her luxuriant hair was held in place by a neon hair tie which matched her lime glasses.

“Good morning my sweets,” she hummed.

Reid would expect nothing but exaltation from the blonde. Penelope was like an art gallery, inspired and living to inspire. She was mellifluous.

_Mellifluous, adjective, originated from the Latin words mel and fluere. The word fluere meant to flow which developed into mellifluus with Late Latin and formed the final word in the 15th century. This is often used in pertinence to musicals or galleries._

_The first art gallery was actually an art museum. The Ashmolean Museum in Oxford opened on 24 May 1683 as the world's first university art museum. Its first building was built in 1678–1683 to house the cabinet of curiosities Elias Ashmole gave Oxford University in 1677._

Reid offered a tight smile and a wave, offering his own verbal greeting as he pulled up other photos and statistics. Gideon chose that moment to arrive from his own office, eyes addressing the smiles and candy bin the lower level.

_The chance that a child is kidnapped and murdered stands at about 1 in every 347,000. 90 percent of stranger kidnappings are committed by males aged 20-40 years old._

Mugshots of convicted felons came to mind: _Phillip Garrido’s blue eyes staring into the camera, Brian David Mitchell and Wanda Ileen Barzee who threatened Elizabeth Smart with death on a daily basis-_

Reid blinked rapidly, pulling himself from his thoughts. He sipped from his coffee, willing his unease to dissipate. Morgan called his name. Reid adjusted his bag over his shoulder and followed.

Hotch was already seated in his regular chair. He eyed Gideon as the agents took their seats. JJ stepped to the front of the room and began her typical opening, explaining the file Reid had examined.

“This case will take us to New York City. Three girls have gone missing in the last month, two were recently found dead. All were white and attended public high school.”

“The most recent girl?” Gideon asked, eyes calculating survival odds. “She might return to that school.”

Gideon made eye contact with Reid. His dark eyes focused on Reid’s sweaty hair and tired eyes. He squirmed under his mentor’s gaze.

”It is possible to go back,” he said kindly.

Instead of returning the smile Reid seemed disgusted, offended. Gideon knew Reid would need time, what he didn’t know was how to reach him. What could he say to the young man?

Reid frowned, irritation twisting in his gut like a hot knife.  

“Possible but unlikely,” he snapped.

”Reid, they’re just children,” Gideon said softly. “We can find her.”

“74 percent of children are killed within the first three hours of abduction,” he said with a tight frown, his cold eyes never leaving Gideon’s warmth.

”Reid,” Hotch said with a frown. “We will continue searching for Danielle Axler. JJ, please continue.”

The surrounding agents were silent. All eyes were on Reid’s sour expression. Morgan’s brow furrowed in concern. He leaned toward Reid before the doctor cut him off with a shake of his head.

JJ‘s mouth twitched to the side as she clasped her hands. “Okay, our victims...”

A photo of a smiling girl appeared on screen. She stood atop the bleachers in a high school gym. A festive scrunchie held her brown hair from brushing her volleyball uniform.

“Ashley Reddick, 17 and with a full ride to Princeton. She was captain of her high school’s volleyball team.”

She stood next to a smaller girl with the same almond shaped eyes and pale skin.

“She and her younger sister were the team’s star players,” JJ said softly.

“Rebecca DeAndrews was last seen leaving a school club. She was president of the Student Government.”

Another click revealed a happy brunette waving at the camera. Freckles dotted her face and brought out her dark blue eyes. In the next photo they were white.

“Both were seniors with good grades and better reputations, both found in dumpsites three days after their kidnappings.”

JJ clicked through photos of both dead girls with burnt mouths and slit throats. They were horrific. The screams responded in his head, Tobias’ pleads, his screams.

The lifeless eyes stood in contrast to the energy of each high schooler. Ashley Reddick was found under piles of garbage in an alley. Her burnt lips were covered in scars and bumps.

_The crackle of the wood above his bruised foot. Charles Hankel yelling his name._

Emily raised a hand to her mouth, tracing the scar as if her own lips had been destroyed. Reid stared at the victims, his mouth drying up as if the unsub had burnt him.

He was all too familiar with the wrath of an unsub.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I really appreciate hearing what you have to say. Thanks! I actually had fun setting up this case, what are your thoughts so far? 
> 
> What do you think Gideon and Morgan should say to Reid?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But pain's like water. It finds a way to push through any seal. There's no way to stop it.”
> 
> Katie Kacvinsky.

Gideon shook his head, his mouth pulled down. “Any news on the last missing girl, Danielle Alexer?”

She shook her head sadly. “Nothing recent. Her last sighting was two days ago after 7 pm. Her friend Ayana Williams offered Danielle a ride home from soccer practice.”

The red haired teen smiled from the computer, her dark eyes full of life. Emily noted the second half of the computer remained empty. She hoped it would stay that way.

“Danielle was last seen walking home at 7:16 Monday night. Danielle never came home and her phone has been turned off since late Monday.”

“So wherever the unsub is he was close,” Morgan said. “And fast.”

“Then we have no time to lose,” Hotch declared. “Wheels up in 20.”

*

His head slumped against the back of the stall’s door.

It was embarrassing how relieved he was to be rid of his teammates. Even if for a few minutes; Reid needed _space_. The debriefing room was congested with noise and haunting photos of girls.

He hissed as another wave of pain ripped through him. His skin was tight around his bones like a cheap bag before it broke. 

_His mother bought him a new pair of pants. They walked out of the grocery store, hand in hand. His father insisted they bring home a pack of beer._

_He drank Schaefer, not because he was an alcoholic but a workaholic and it had been a long day._

_Spencer placed the alcohol over his pants, shoving the items into a single plastic bag. His mother protested. Her dry voice insisted the weight was too much for him._

_He shook his head._

_“I can carry it, mom.”_

_“Spencer don’t be ridiculous you’re too little to carry so much,” his mother chastised._

_According to Anne Scott and Lee Sechrest’s ‘The Strength of Theory and Theory of Stren_ gth’ _the strength of treatment is vital to determining the outcomes of scientific studies. Reid had never conducted a scientific study on his upbringing. The treatment, his mother’s pills, were often neglected._

_“I can carry it,” the boy insisted, ignoring the plastic pulling apart in his hand._

_The scientists emphasized the importance of a strong support system from the beginning. His father was unhappy. His mother was unhappy. He was determined to provide the strongest support system they would receive._

_Someone bumped into the boy as he and his mother approached their car._

_The bag ripped. The bottles hit the ground; the amber liquid stained his new pants; the crack of glass over cement hurt his mother’s head. She put a hand to her temple as a grimace pressed over her face._

_His eyes widened in fear._

_‘_ You’re upsetting her- you’re going to ruin everything!’

_He stumbled backwards from the man’s shoulder. A mumbled apology passed his ear. He couldn’t hear past the shattered glass._

‘You should have listened to her. You should have just _listened_ and done as you were told.’

_His eyes focused on the shattered glass glinting in the sun, the brown spilling over his pants. She was right, he couldn’t carry it- he couldn’t carry it! He dropped to the ground and fumbled with broken glass, wincing as it cut into his small hands._

_He wasn’t_ strong enough. _Why wasn’t he strong enough? His mother was speaking to him. She was probably_ _angry, he had wasted all of that money- now everything was broken and soiled and ruined and it was all his fault._

 _The glass cut into his hands again and again and each time he dropped them and tried again to fix his mistakes and make his mother happy and- why was it so hot outside today? His hands hurt, he was sticky with beer and his mom was going to be_ angry _and what would his dad say and- and- and why was it so hot today, why was it so_ hot?

_His hands were shaking and bloody and dirty._

_It was too hot and he sweaty- he was covered in disgusting, oozing sweat running down his back and he pushed at his skin but the blood and the dirt and the sweat wouldn’t go away **it wouldn’t go away!**_

It was the earliest panic attack Reid could remember.

People had stared at him. Why did people always have to stare at him? His mother had helped him pick up the broken pieces and calmed him down. The stimulation must have been tortuous but she had helped him. 

The drive home had been tense and void of alcohol. Spencer had reeked of it- _beer_ and _blood_ and _dirt_ and _sweat_ and he’d hated it. His mother had discussed the importance of honesty and letting others take care of him.

_“But won’t dad be angry?” He asked nervously, pushing his old glasses up his nose._

_His mother’s dark eyes flickered back to him in the car’s mirror._

_“Your father can be pissed to hell for all I care.”_

_She offered him a smile. “You are my baby Spencer, and a few glass bottles wouldn’t change that for gods sake. You are my son and I love you.”_

_He smiled softly. “I love you too.”_

He had known his mother wasn’t angry with him. With an eidetic memory he could zone in on the details of any day. But on that particular day one detail stood out in particular- not the tears, not the indications of his panic, not even his mother’s smile.

He couldn’t carry the bag.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first Criminal Minds fic so I’d love to hear what you think! I’m still to open to how to take this fic-
> 
> What would you guys like to see? How do you feel about Reid’s actions so far?


End file.
